


Breaking Point II: Given Enough Rope

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-17
Updated: 2003-10-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: He doesn't want to be this guy... again.





	Breaking Point II: Given Enough Rope

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Breaking Point II: Given Enough Rope**

**by:** Jaye Reid   
**Category(s):** Josh/Donna - Serious Angst - Josh POV   
**Rating:** TEEN for Language  
**Disclaimer:** Created by the brilliant Sorkin and WB. Not mine, never will be. I have no money, therefore I'm not worth suing. Borrowed for my own amusement.  
**Summary:** He doesn't want to be this guy... again.  
**Spoiler:** ** Up to & including Season 5 + future spoilers & speculation**  
**Written:** October 12, 2003  
**Author's Note:** This piece took a bit more effort to write. Josh - being, well, Josh - didn't want to talk about his problems, and it took awhile to get anything out of him. Thanks to Aim for once again picking through it and getting me to clarify what the hell it was Josh was saying... And Bridget for being such a prompt beta reader, especially when she's not feeling 100%. 

Sleep, she wants me to sleep. 

Yeah, like that's gonna happen. 

I collapse on my bed - I don't bother getting undressed - and stare at the ceiling. 

My life has gone to shit. 

Big time. 

I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm just... if I lose Donna over this then I don't know what I'm going to do. I screwed up. I so totally fucked this up! 

I'm so angry at myself I just want to punch... 

Yeah... No wonder Donna's calling Stanley. 

I want to curl myself into a tight little ball, but I don't think I can curl up enough to make it feel better. I wanted to get drunk out of my brain tonight, but after I'd had a couple, I just couldn't bring myself to keep going. 

And at the moment I just want to break something. 

This afternoon when I heard the two East Wing staffers talk about Amy being pregnant, the first thing that came to mind was 'how the hell am I going to tell Donna?' Not, 'wow I'm going to be a father', not 'why hasn't Amy told me herself.' No, the first thought was how this was going to affect any chance at a relationship I might have with Donna. 

I knew I had to tell her before anyone else did. What happened between Amy and myself - the second time - wasn't a getting back together it was more of, well, a comfort fuck I suppose. I followed Amy back to her office from the fireworks display on the 4th and fucked her up against her office door. 

That's all it was. 

I was a ball of stress and she offered relief. Hell, she basically threw herself at me. It wasn't until after when we were straightening our clothes that I found out why. She'd said with a self-confident smirk, 'Do you still want Donna after that!' and I thought to myself, yeah... Actually, I do. 

Donna isn't about a quick fuck. Donna is about my next breath. 

To Amy, having sex with me is all about the competition of winning against Donna. I can tell you I'm certainly not worthy to be anyone's prize. But I refuse to be a trophy for Amy. 

Donna had gone when I got back to my office. 

I felt empty. 

** 

Over the next week I did everything to avoid Amy. I felt guilty about what happened and did everything nice I could think of for Donna who looked at me suspiciously, but didn't comment. 

By the second week Amy got the message and stopped trying to make lunch or drink dates with me. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't have much time to do anything but work for the weeks following until now. I barely saw Donna other than for work, but she understood, I think, how much the whole Vice President process needed my full attention, along with all the other day to day political crap that goes on there. 

Then this. 

Donna was fairly calm when I told her. Well schooled in keeping a neutral face, I guess, after working in the White House. I tried to explain that it - the sex - had been a one-time thing. She said it can only take the one time to get into this situation. I tried to tell her it wasn't anything ongoing with Amy and never would be. Standing from the chair beside me, she smoothed down her skirt and said what I did outside the office wasn't any of her business anyway. She hoped Amy and I managed to sort things out for the child's sake. She reminded me of a meeting I'd forgotten and left my office. Re-closing the door behind her. 

I felt alone and empty again. 

Then tonight, I called Donna. I don't really remember what I said to get her to come to the bar, but she did. I'm not sure what I feel about all of it. I keep thinking that if I hadn't been such a schmuck and presumed the child was mine, Donna would never have known I'd been with Amy again. Deceitful as it sounds, it would have been okay. But here was me, thinking that I was the only one. 

Turns out I wasn't. 

Turns out, we were both going through the motions of what was available compared to what we preferred. The dates indicate to her she was already pregnant when we... Yeah, I don't want to think about it. She appreciated me letting her know that the rumor mill was already churning and chuckled a bit at the notion that I thought it was mine. She said if she were that way inclined she might have let me believe it was - thankfully she's not. And, as it turns out, she's not going to have it anyway. So it's a moot point. 

My whole life feels like a moot point. 

No wonder Donna thinks I'm heading for a breakdown. 

Am I? 

Donna is so absolutely pissed with me. I can't face the thought of losing her. I hurt her and I disappointed her. I'm a major asshole. I don't deserve her friendship let alone anything else. She could do way better than me. If I were her, I wouldn't want me. I'm just not worth the effort. 

Added to that, I feel sick. 

I don't remember what or when I ate last and I think that fact and the alcohol tonight... Yeah, I'm gonna be sick. 

Somehow I manage to get to the bathroom. I'm collapsed on the floor, my head resting on the porcelain throwing my guts up when I feel her presence and it's not long before a damp washcloth passes over my forehead. I want to say something, but I keep heaving until I don't think there is anything left to heave. My stomach muscles ache, my head is pounding and Donna is here looking after me. 

I don't deserve her. She didn't sign up for this. 

I can feel my body shake and it takes me a moment to realize it's because I'm sobbing. Hell, this is so pathetic but I can't seem to stop. I want to stop, in my head I can hear this voice asking me what the fuck are you doing crying... But I can't stop. 

Donna wraps her arms around me and we both sit on my bathroom floor. Me bawling my eyes out like a three-year-old and her holding me together and wiping the tears away with the washcloth as they continue to fall. I feel safe in her arms, protected. It should be me protecting her, not the other way around. That's what my Father taught me. Men should protect those they love. But she's doing the protecting and I'm doing the falling apart. 

I think I'm having that breakdown. 

I keep trying to tell her I'm sorry, but it sounds garbled as it comes out of my mouth, like a record played at the wrong speed. Somewhere in there something must make sense because she's telling me she knows and it will all be okay. I don't know how it will be okay, but in the face of nothing else to hang on to, I try and believe her. 

* 

I don't know how I got here, but I wake up in my bed. I start to wonder if perhaps it has all been a horrible nightmare, but the leftover bile taste in my mouth tells me otherwise. I roll over to look at the time and nearly have a heart attack. 

"How are you feeling son?" Leo asks. One of my kitchen chairs has been brought in here and he's sitting with his socked feet resting on the edge of my bed. A newspaper lays open on his lap. 

I glance at the clock noting it's still early, before I give my answer. "Like shit." 

"Reasonable enough answer considering you look like shit," he offers without preamble. 

I close my eyes and rest back into the pillow. I know I've disappointed him, too. 

"Leo..." 

"You're back in the hole, but we're down here with you. You climbed out once, you can do it again." 

"I'm tired of climbing out," I tell him. Because I really am. I don't know if I have the strength to do it again. 

"Tough." 

I turn my head, open my eyes and look at him. 

"Tough," he repeats. 

"You don't need this, Leo." I remind him. There is enough going on at the office. He doesn't need a mentally deficient handicap like me. 

"Stanley can't get here from San Francisco, so you're going there. Your week has been farmed out. I have someone coming in to temporarily cover your office. Donna's going with you because I can't and I don't trust anyone else to stop you from doing something stupid." 

Donna. 

Where is Donna? 

The last I saw of her, she was holding me as I cried like a baby. I think she might have been crying, too. I assume she got me back in here. 

"She's gone home to pack some clothes and then she'll be back," Leo tells me, obviously I'm fairly readable. "She won't tell me what happened, but I swear to God, Josh... I think you're on about your last chance with her." 

"I know," I croak hoarsely. "You don't have to baby-sit me Leo." 

He snorts at me. "Tell me, in the past twenty-four hours have you thought about doing something stupid to make the pain go away? If you haven't, then I'll go." 

I wish I could deny it, but I can't. 

"Didn't think so," he replies to my silence as he picks up his paper again. 

"Leo..." I want to tell him I don't think I would now, but he doesn't give me the chance. 

"I've been in this particular hole before Josh and I know what it feels like. So do you. I'm not going anywhere until Donna gets back." 

I must have drifted off to sleep again, because the next time I go to talk to Leo he's gone. 

Donna's sitting there. 

"Afternoon," she says softly. 

Afternoon? I slept that long? I must have been tired. 

My head feels like a lead weight, but at least it matches the rest of my body. 

"I feel like Scrooge," I tell her. 

"Huh?" 

"Every time I open my eyes there's someone different sitting there." 

"Which ghost am I?" she questions as she stands to hand me a glass of water and Tylenol she must have put on the bedside dresser at some stage. 

"Future," I tell her around the mouthful of tablets. "But good, not bad," I try to say with a positive tone. 

"Keep looking forward, not backward," she tells me as she moves towards the door. 

"Donna..." I stop, because I'm not sure now what I really want to say to her. I need to do this, I need to know... "Donna... I haven't... I haven't lost you have I?" My fear pushes to the front. 

"I'm here aren't I?" she answers with a question. 

"Yes, but..." 

"This wasn't in my job description Josh. I didn't sign up for this, so if I'm here it must be because I want to be, not because I have to be. We've got three hours before the flight so I suggest you have a shower. Do I have to worry about you being in there alone?" 

I shake my head. The overwhelming need to break something has passed. 

"Thank you," comes out in barely a whisper. It's all I'm capable of now that I know, at least for the time being, she's not turning heel and running away from me. 

She nods, gives me a slight smile before leaving me lying here to get ready. I feel like she has thrown me a lifeline, a rope, to help climb out of the hole. 

Only it's my choice as to whether I take hold and climb out, or fashion a noose. 

I've never been good at tying knots. 

I guess I really only have one choice: to grab hold of it and try to climb out.

Finis.


End file.
